


Keep Your Head up (Moving On)

by Sherwhotreksings



Category: Ghostbusters (2016), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, High Angst, Holtzmann was abused, Hurt/Comfort, and the end is super fluffy, but those scenes are short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:56:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8002690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherwhotreksings/pseuds/Sherwhotreksings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever thinks much of it, the way Holtzmann occasionally twitches away from their touch. Everyone always pegs it as typical jumpy Holtz who can never sit still for longer than 20 minutes at a time. Really, she’s glad it goes unnoticed most of the time, so she doesn’t have to explain it. The few times someone does make a comment on it, she gives the excuse of them scaring her. It’s not a full lie after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Your Head up (Moving On)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic caused me so much pain and I'm only slightly sorry for the pain it'll inflict on you. Please feel free to flail with me in the comments or on tumblr (madquerade) about it. Lesbian salutes to everyone who recognizes the title!

She notices a small article in the newspaper on Tuesday morning. She doesn’t normally read the paper, but this particular headline catches her attention as she glances across the breakfast table to Erin, who has the flip side held up in front of her face. 

_ Ruthbergs Arrested for Child Abuse _

She can just barely make out the first few lines of the article as she slowly slurps the milk from her cereal bowl. 

_ A couple from Queens has been charged with child abuse and neglect of their two year old girl, Emma Ruthberg. The Ruthbergs initially denied even having a child after suspicious neighbors called the police claiming- _

She winces and drops her spoon into her bowl with a loud clatter, causing Erin to look over the top of the paper at Holtz. Normally she’d take this moment to admire how adorable Erin looks, but she feels physically sick. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. 

“You okay?” Erin questions, one eyebrow raised. 

Jillian schools her face into a grin that feels unnatural. “Peachy.” She stands and deposits her bowl in the sink, stomach churning, hands shaking. 

It’s not often something brings her crashing violently back to her past. The past she hoped to lock away and never ever bring up again. 

She needs some air or something, otherwise she’s going to suffocate. The walls are closing in on her, as if compressing her into a small square. 

She picks up her wire stripper and a few coils of wire as she runs past her lab on her way to the roof to give her hands something to do while she calms down. With each step, panic constricts her chest more and more. 

She bursts out into the open with a crash as the door swings wide and hits the outside wall. The roof is a good place. It’s loud and distracting, yet quiet and still. She drops her tools to the ground and doubles over, resting her hands on her knees as she gulps in the cool air, the edge of autumn blowing into New York.

After a moment of rest, her chest feels better, but her head is swimming in thoughts of the past.

 

~

 

_ “Jillian!” Her mother screams. _

_ Jillian shrinks into the corner of the living room as her mother advances on her. _

_ “What did I say about girls?! I told you, you’re not allowed to see Amelia anymore! She made you fucking gay.” _

_ “She’s i-in my math class. I-I promise she was j-just dropping off my h-homework,” Jillian stutters as her mother presses into her personal space, fist reaching for Jillian’s shirt collar.  _

_ Her heart beats fast in her neck as her mother’s grip tightens, she’ll probably have fabric burn tomorrow, and definitely a bruise where her mother’s knuckles are grinding into her collarbone. She should have known better than to let her mother see Amelia, or anyone else for that matter. She knows what happens when her mother thinks something is going on between her and a friend. She knows what happens when she behaves ‘like a lesbian.’ _

_ Her mother yanks her forward and slams her back into the wall, free hand coming towards her at lightning speed and slaps her across the face.  _

_ She crumples to the floor as her mother lets go of her shirt, her foot shooting out to kick Jillian in the ribs. Jillian flinches, arms coming up to protect her face as her mother bashes the same spot over and over with the toe of her boot. Sometimes Jillian thinks that spot on her ribs would be mushy like a melted gel ice pack from the frequency it’s bruised, healed, and then bruised again. It’s gotten to the point where there’s rarely a time when her ribs aren’t sore and covered with the tell tale purple green spots.  _

 

~

 

Holtzmann stares intensely at her hands, brow furrowed, as she wills the tears welling up to not fall. She isn’t there anymore. Her mother doesn’t have that power over her. Her mother is in jail. Her mother won’t ever be able to hurt her like that again. Somehow she’s managed to strip an entire four foot coil already.

She slowly brings bits and pieces of her equipment and inventions up to the roof, electing to spend the rest of the day outside where the subtle bite of the wind on her exposed arms reminds her to stay in the present. It’s what she used to do when she was younger, use the cold to keep her grounded. She used to run an ice cube over her injuries, letting it turn her unbruised skin a faint blue. She used to stand out in the snow barefoot, only coming inside once the stinging faded to numbness and a quiet voice in her head warned her of frostbite. There’s no danger of that tonight, however. The cold only gives her a bitter comfort and familiarity. 

The sunset hours ago, bringing a close to the dismal day Holtzmann has had. She sets down the circuit board she’s trying to fix and moves over to the edge of the building, leaning against the short cement wall, and looking out to the lights of the city. 

Her mother was always harsh to her. At the time Jillian assumed it was because her mother cared for her, insisted to the social worker and judge even that her mother wasn’t doing anything to her that she didn’t deserve or need, but with years and distance between them, she realized the truth of the situation. Whether or not her mother actually loved her, she can never quite figure out. Some people assured her she did, others whispered that a mother couldn’t love a child like Jillian. It doesn’t feel like she ever loved her now, it never does. 

Her heart sinks. A familiar wave of guilt washing over her at her next thoughts.

She knows it’s pointless, but she can’t help but wish her life was different, can’t help but wish she had a different mother. 

Someone grabs her shoulder, breaking her from her reverie, and she jumps, hunching forward, half expecting it to be her mother again. 

“Jeez, Holtz. It’s just me,” Erin gasps, shocked at Jillian’s reaction.

She fixes a smile on her face, turning around. “Erin! So lovely to see you at this time of night.”

Erin narrows her eyes, aware that Jillian’s smile doesn’t meet her eyes, and her fake cheery tone doesn’t match up with the mood in the air. “I haven’t seen you all day. Abby said I should give you some space-”

Of course Abby did. Always looking out for her. She told her the barest details one night after binge drinking and showing up on Abby’s doorstep, in tears after getting a call from the jail her mom was in. 

“-but it’s after midnight and I didn’t want to go home until I made sure you’re okay and have you promise you’ll at least get a few hours of sleep.” 

She can’t lie to Erin, not with how she’s looking at her, like everything she’s feeling is important and validated, and there’s a promise of ‘I’ll listen’ there behind her eyes.   


“I don’t really want to go to sleep tonight,” Jillian’s voice breaks.

Erin just nods, understanding how dark the night can feel sometimes. 

There’s a moment of silence between them before Erin clears her throat, awkwardly shuffling back a few steps, clearly trying to decide whether to say something or not.

Jillian tilts her head, pushing her glasses up into her hairline, as if to urge Erin to speak.

“Do you want me to- uh- to... sleep- stay with you? Tonight?” 

Closing her eyes, Holtz nods once, only to open them and see Erin staring at her with something akin to a strange mix of curiosity and worry. She opts for the stairs instead of her normal path of fire pole as she goes back inside and descends to the second floor where her makeshift room is. Everyone has a sort of room here in case of late work, but Jillian is the only one who uses hers semi-regularly. 

As she changes into her pajamas, she haphazardly tosses her dirty clothes onto the pile on a chair, completely unaware of Erin watching from behind, mouth agape. Holtz slips under the covers of the double bed, mattress directly on the floor, and pats the spot next to her expectantly. 

“Oh, you want me to- I thought I’d just- I mean I  _ can _ -”

Jillian lets out a whine, “Eriiiiiin.”

Erin sighs and slips under the covers behind her. Jillian stiffens momentarily as Erin tentatively presses her chest into her back, laying an arm over Jillian’s waist experimentally. 

“Is… this okay, Holtzy?” Erin asks quietly.

Jillian nods with a sharp intake of breath and releases her tension. The close proximity of Erin is both unsettling and relaxing. On one hand, a part of her has been dying to know how Erin would feel next to her in bed, but she wishes it was under  _ different _ circumstances, on the other hand, just being around Erin makes her feel all mushy inside, the good kind of mushy. 

She’s had the largest crush on Erin Gilbert since the day they met, one that unfortunately won’t be returned by the straight laced physicist and refuses to go away no matter how hard Holtz tries to ignore it. Honestly, she’s not trying that hard. Besides, what’s the harm in flirting? Erin seems to be under the impression that it’s meaningless anyway, so there’s no danger there.

She can feel Erin’s breathing even out against her neck as she falls asleep and for a moment Holtz believes everything is okay long enough to drift off herself.

_ She’s sitting in the dark on the floor, an overwhelming feeling of anxiety and uneasiness washes over her. She feels around for something, anything, to give her a clue as to where she is. A loud thumping vibrates through the floor and she can tell it’s getting closer. Dread grips her as the thumping gets closer together and she identifies it as someone running rapidly towards her. Her back hits a wall as she scoots away, desperate to escape whatever is approaching. Her heart rate increases, she can feel her stomach bubbling, pulse throbbing over her ribs. That’s when she realizes what, or rather who, is coming. _

_ Her mother.  _

_ She scrambles up, feeling her way along the wall for a door or window.  _

_ Her mother is behind her. She can feel her hot breath on the back of her neck.  _

_ Luckily she finds a closet and slips inside, slamming the door at the last second. Leaning with all her weight, she struggles to keep the door shut, and a menacing hand slips in the crack, fingers grasping wildly. A long nail catches her skin, digging in, and leaves a huge gash along her collarbone to her shoulder.  _

_ She screams and suddenly she’s 12 again, the first time her mother beat her.  _

_ The door is thrown open, knocking her back. The outline of her mother advances, screaming at her unintelligibly, but angry none the less.  _

Jillian jerks into consciousness, years of nightmares giving her the ability to snap herself out mid-dream once she realizes what’s going on. She keeps her eyes screwed shut, reassuring herself she’s actually at the Ghostbusters Headquarters and not trapped in a closet, taking deep shaky breaths to calm down her racing heart. 

A hand reaches out and brushes her in the same place she was scratched in her dream, and Jillian jumps, curling in on herself. It takes her several seconds to remember Erin.

Erin pulls back her hand like she was burned. “Hey,” she whispers, “Holtzmann?” 

Jillian curls in tighter on herself. She knows it isn’t real. She knows it was just a dream. She knows she’s no longer in the same place she was. Yet it still hurts, and still scares her, and still haunts her.

“What can I do? Jillian… Jill?” Erin tentatively reaches out and wraps her in a hug, pulling her half onto her lap.

She doesn’t fight it like she normally would, leans into Erin’s hand on the side of her face even. 

“Shh. It was just a dream. It’s okay. I’m here now. You’re not alone,” Erin soothes. 

Jillian’s breathing slows down as Erin rubs gentle circles on her back. She sits back after a few minutes once Erin’s hand lights her skin on fire rather than keeps her grounded. She locks eyes with her and she can see the barely disguised worry. Erin moves her hand from Jillian’s back to hover over her cheek, before deciding to wipe away a stray tear with her thumb. Jillian didn’t even realize she was crying. 

Her eyes flick down to Erin’s lips and she unconsciously licks her own. She’s never seen this side of Erin before, the side that knows exactly what to do to calm her down. It's unnerving in a way she can't quite explain. 

She catches Erin staring at her lips as well. 

_ No. _ She can't do that to her best friend. Her staring was just an automatic reaction to Jillian licking her lips, or so she lets herself believe. 

Jillian spins around, back to Erin, and slumps over some, mentally and physically exhausted. Neither of them makes a sound, completely aware of what just transpired between them. As much as Jillian wants to,  _ aches to _ , she can't kiss her. It'll ruin everything. Erin will regret it, regret her, just like everyone else. Besides, why would Erin want to be with someone who was regularly beaten and left with so many issues she refuses to deal with?

Erin's fingers come up and brush Jillian’s curls back from her face, gently massaging her scalp as she works her hands towards her bun, and Jillian lets out a sigh, tipping her head back. Erin doesn't ask about the dream, which is unexpected… or completely predictable. She just sits in silence and slowly pulls the pins out of Holtz’s hair. 

“My mother beat me as a teenager,” Jillian starts quietly, voice barely audible. 

The only reaction Erin has is a slight pause before continuing to take out pins, waiting for her to speak on her own terms. 

“After I came out. She thought it would get rid of my gayness, I suppose,” her voice is louder, but wavering. 

Jillian’s hair cascades down her back in kinky, messy waves, and Erin runs her fingers through it, working out the tangles. 

“She's in jail now, will be for a long time, but it still haunts me. That’s why I sometimes flinch when I’m not paying attention and someone touches me.”

Erin finally speaks up, “That’s not the sort of thing that just goes away.” 

She desperately wants to look at Erin, gauge her reaction, but she knows that if she does, she’ll lose all control. Also, whatever Erin is doing with her hands feels wonderful, and she doesn’t want it to stop.

“She used to beat me whenever I acted like a lesbian, which… You know…” Jillian gestures to her body, snorting because of how obviously gay she is. “She used to say it was for my own good and I used to believe her. I still do sometimes when that feeling comes back.”

In Erin’s state of shock at Jillian’s confession, she accidentally tugs on a strand of Jillian’s hair, and Jillian takes a sharp breath followed by a low moan on the exhale.

_ Fuck. _

She’s stuck in this awkward place of self loathing and being incredibly turned on by one Erin Gilbert, which honestly isn’t much of a change, but tonight the roar of her attraction is especially strong. 

“No one deserves that, Jill. I know what it feels like to have parents that don't approve of you, but being abused for it…” Erin crawls around to sit in front of Jillian. “I don't know if I can even imagine it.” She waits a beat to see if Jillian will speak again, but when she doesn’t Erin goes on. “But trust me when I say you  _ did not  _ deserve that. You are worth so much more than what your mother showed you.”

Erin is looking at her with an intensity she can’t comprehend. Being cared about  _ that much _ is still such a foreign concept to her. She can’t help it, she lurches forward and captures Erin’s lips with her own before she can stop herself, hands on either side of Erin’s neck, fingers lacing into her hair. Erin is frozen, lips unmoving. 

Jillian quickly pulls away, ducking her head. What a great time to have poor functioning impulse control. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m just emotional, and you’re emotional, and let’s pretend that never happened.”

Erin furrows her brow. “I don’t want to do that.” She leans in to Jillian, resting their foreheads together. “In case you haven’t noticed, I like you Jillian Holtzmann. I know you like me, so don’t try to deny it.”

In a strange turn of events, Erin is the one making Jillian blush. 

“Can I-” Jillian pauses, frustrated at her lack of cognitive speech function, “Can I kiss you again?”

Erin doesn’t even answer verbally, just presses their lips together again, pulling Jillian to her. Jillian’s hands tangle in Erin’s hair, weaving strands around her fingers like a tapestry. The way Erin is ghosting her hands over her sides makes her breathless. Jillian runs her tongue across the seam of Erin’s lips, and Erin parts them eagerly, hands coming to rest on her rib cage. 

Jillian breaks their kiss with minor protest from Erin in the form of a slow whine. 

“I sometimes can still feel the pain there,” Jillian tips her head in the direction of Erin’s hand, “like the muscle and bone retained the memory of every bruise and fracture.” 

Erin’s hands inch down to finger the hem of Jillian’s shirt, locking eyes with her as she slowly, agonizingly slow, pulls her shirt over her head. Once the shirt is thrown to the ground, Jillian is pretty sure her heart is beating so hard, Erin can see it, and her stomach is fluttering at the way Erin is looking at her. She imagines it must be similar to how she is looking at Erin, but beside the lust, and love, and adoration, is wonder in Jillian’s eyes and worship in Erin’s. 

Jillian’s breath hitches as Erin’s fingers splay over that spot on her rib cage, and she attempts to suck a mark into Erin’s neck, but Erin pushes her back, back, back, until her head hits the pillow. Erin climbs on top of her and presses a line of gentle kisses from her pulse point all the way down to where her fingers still rest. Then her fingers move down to Jillian’s waistband, mouth traveling lower and lower, pausing a fraction of an inch above where Jillian wants-  _ needs _ \- her desperately, but she can’t not right now, not like this. Not when her mindset at the moment has her questioning at the back of her mind whether each kiss is genuine or just to comfort. Not when she can’t tell if Erin isn’t just caught up in the emotion of it all. 

Jillian nudges Erin, getting her to sit up. She looks up at the woman straddling her, awe filling her face at how this particular human cares about her so much. Whether or not Erin is caught up in the emotion of it all, she was still willing to show her what she means to her.

The moment is broken when Jillian sees hurt dance across her face, so she brings a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and cup her cheek. 

“Erin, baby, thank you, but not tonight. I need to know you want that for real first and I can’t know that with how I’m feeling right now.”

Erin opens her mouth to protest, but Jillian cuts her off.

“We can see tomorrow, but right now I’m afraid you’re only caught up in my vulnerability. Please? Just- come ‘ere.” Jillian pulls Erin down to her, turning them on their side, so she can wrap her arms around her. “Let’s just sleep.” 

“Just sleep?” Erin parrots back, tucking Jillian’s head under her chin.

“Well… I’d never say no to kisses.”

Erin presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Good night, Jillian.”  
  
She sighs into Erin’s skin, “Good night, Erin.” 


End file.
